


We Can't Be Friends

by psiphifan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Astoria Greengrass Dies, Boxing & Fisticuffs, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Divorced Hermione Granger, Divorced Hermione Granger & Ron Weasley, Draco Malfoy Has a Large Cock, Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World, Draco Malfoy is Bad at Feelings, Draco Malfoy is a Tease, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Female Ejaculation, Fluff and Smut, Happy Ending, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hermione Granger is Bad at Feelings, I don't know anything about boxing, I'm Bad At Tagging, Many prompts included, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, Meddling, Mentioned Narcissa Black Malfoy, Minister for Magic Hermione Granger, Minor Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Minor Rose Granger-Weasley/Scorpius Malfoy, Not Beta Read, Not Britpicked, POV Alternating, Past Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy, Past Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Post-Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, Praise Kink, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Rose Granger-Weasley & Scorpius Malfoy Friendship, Rough Sex, Sex, Smut, Strictly Dramione Fest, Swearing, Thirsty Hermione Granger, This fic got carried away, Top Draco Malfoy, Valentine's Day, Widower Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:48:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29382303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psiphifan/pseuds/psiphifan
Summary: Draco Malfoy has been a widower for two years and his mother is pushing him towards suitable second wives. Hermione Granger has been divorced for over a year, but as Minister for Magic, she has little time for dalliances outside of work. What happens when they both happen to venture into the muggle world on Valentine's Day weekend in 2021?
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 6
Kudos: 83
Collections: Strictly Dramione - Valentine’s Day Fest 2021





	We Can't Be Friends

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoy this for Valentine's Day! This is the first fic I've written in a while and it really just got me going... It's wayyyy longer than I intended. I also used like 4 of the prompts given! This ended up be a slightly slow-burn Dramione and I have to warn you that there is Scorpius/Rose relationship in combination with Dramione, so if that weirds you out, I'm sorry. Additionally, you may think my Hermione is out of character, so let me know!
> 
> I'm excited to submit this my first fest submission even though I hurried to finish it! This has not been beta'd or brit-picked (I'm American, if you didn't know), so hopefully you're not bothered with any random errors or Americanisms or badly used Britishisms.

**12 February, 2021**   
**Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire**

It was the Friday before Valentine's Day. The second Valentine’s Day after Astoria had passed away and Draco’s grief was still present, but not as much as the first year. What was grating on him, more than missing her, was the deluge of red, pink, and purple paraphernalia arriving by owl at the Manor. Apparently, his mother thought his period of mourning had gone on long enough according to the traditional pureblood standards of social etiquette.

Narcissa Malfoy had only just tolerated his wife and their choice to instill better values in Scorpius, his son, than they had instilled in Draco himself. It was difficult, sometimes, for him to completely abandon the way he was raised, but the war had been enough for him to realize that he’d wanted to marry for love and never go back to the darkness of Voldemort’s return. 

This farcical holiday was going to push him over the edge and into the status of what he used to call “blood-traitor” because there was no way he would give into this insanity his mother was thrusting upon him so unceremoniously! Draco was swearing under his breath as he heard his office Floo activate and allow a guest into his home. There were only a handful of people who had this access…

“Drakey!” The Lord of the Manor rolled his eyes at the mocking voice of his so-called best friend.

Blaise Zabini strutted from the Floo to where Draco was glaring at the pile of candies, cards, and other assorted Valentine-themed items. The Italian-born wizard had only moved into his best mate position after Theo Nott had been sent to Azkaban for the time turner incidents last year. Draco regretted this friendship most of the time.

“Pucker up, mate! It’s almost V-Day!” Zabini yelled boisterously, trying to wrangle Draco into a kiss. Wandlessly and wordlessly, he sent a stinging hex and avoided the wizard’s advances.

Blaise grinned like a fool. “Bloody V-Day,” Draco grumbled, still eyeing the gifts with disdain. 

“Look at all your admirers, Drake!” Cringing at both his friend’s observance and nickname. Draco wasn’t a mouthful -- no need to shorten it further!

Currently, Draco was debating on vanishing the lot or setting it ablaze. Of course, Zabini started picking through the gifts as though they were for him. The Italian picked up one of the many horrid stuffed animals, waving it around.

“If I see one more pink bear today, I’ll bloody well decapitate it,” Draco said murderously. 

Blaise had a suspicious gleam in his dark eyes. “Come on, mate! It’s not so bad… You’ve got all these witches fawning over you. I’d kill for that kind of attention.”

“Then take this pile of shite home to wife number three, Blaise, and fuck off!” Draco stalked out of his office towards the kitchens for a snack and tea.

The other wizard was on his heels. “Maybe wife number four is in that pile for me, or wife number two for you, Drakey-poo!”

“I am not above punching your lights out like a muggle, Blaise,” Draco threatened briskly. He was 40 years old for Merlin’s sake! Being alone and with his son were the only two coins of his existence and he wanted to keep it that way, didn’t he?

After Astoria, he really didn’t want any other witch, did he? Could he lead a wife-less, and therefore sexless existence. Draco hadn’t slept with another witch since marriage and Astoria hadn’t had the energy for carnal activities during the final six months of her time with him. Not that he really needed it. Anything to spend more time with her with sex or without.

“You’re brooding again, Drake! You’ll get more wrinkles,” Blaise smirked while biting into a fresh madeleine one of the house elves had baked knowing that they were one of their Master’s teatime favorites. 

He sighed and decided to be honest with his friend, “I don’t know if I’m ready yet… Besides, all of these eligible witches are probably pureblooded airheads after the Malfoy fortune.”

“Ah, yes, the family jewels,” Blaise mused, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Draco glared. “I meant what I threatened earlier. I’ve been told I have a mean right hook.”

“By who? When did you learn about rubbish like that?” Blaise stared at him challengingly.

Draco waved him off, choosing not to respond. Scorpius’ friendship with Potter’s son was introducing him to muggle things. It wasn’t all so disagreeable, the wizard was discovering. Muggle sports were essentially dueling and Quidditch without magic and had helped him overcome the anger stage of his grief. 

He wouldn’t tell Blaise of all people his guilty muggle pleasure. Draco cracked his knuckles and his friend’s eyes widened.

*******

**12 February, 2021**   
**Ministry of Magic, Office of the Minister**

It was perhaps the tenth time Hermione rolled her eyes at her ex-husband’s boorishness during that day. Ronald and Harry wanted to take their boys to a sporting match in Ireland. Despite this request, she was more or less relieved to not be the recipient of a lovey-dovey display from her ex this Valentine’s Day. 

Last year had been pathetic and embarrassing for both. At that time, they’d been separated for a few months and Ron was trying to convince her they’d make it work. Hermione cringed at the memory. Unfortunately, she'd been trying to make it work since the children were born and she’d been elected as Minister. She’d been admonishing herself for years with: I was so stupid to make the mistake of falling in love with my best friend.

She was the Minister for Magic! Hermione didn’t have time for romance and she didn’t have time to explain to Ronald Weasley the misogyny of boxing. Her arms folded across her tasteful yet fashionable dress as she fumed at Ron’s head in the floo.

“Come on, ‘Mione! Just let us go to the match. It’s just a bit of fun!”

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose. “Ronald, we’re not on the same page about this, we’re not even in the same library.”

“I don’t understand--”

“Of course you don’t,” she interrupted him and sighed. “If you take Hugo, you also have to take Rose if she wants to go. I won’t have it just be the boys if she feels left out.”

She saw Ron’s chin bob in the flames. “Fine, fine. I’ll ask Rosie too.”

Hermione bit her lip, thinking about what she knew of muggle boxing. “I’ll be going as well, so please get me a seat.”

She stifled a laugh as her ex’s jaw dropped. “Wha--you… ‘Mione, why?” 

“It’s just a bit of fun, right, Ronald?" She echoed his words back at him. He grumbled a response before disappearing.

As it was, Hermione barely saw her kids and the Potters, so it would be a good outing even if she didn’t necessarily approve of the outing itself. Maybe she would learn something?

*******

**13 February, 2021**   
**The National Stadium, Dublin, Ireland**

One brilliant thing about a muggle sports event was that the Golden Trio wouldn’t be constantly recognized and harassed. Hermione found out before they made their way to the sporting venue that this was amateur boxing, but they were still elite athletes. She was trying to keep an open mind and her daughter’s presence also helped her look forward to the outing. 

The boys had insisted on a smorgasbord of snacks and drinks -- of course Harry and Ron grabbed two beers. She pursed her lips at their offer of one for her. Hermione preferred wine. The crowds were raucous around them as spectators filled the seats. She overheard Harry speaking to their group about what was going to happen.

“There are lightweight chaps up first and then middleweight next and then there will be heavyweights last. I’ve heard there’s a bloke in the middleweights who's new, but brings an interesting technique. This’ll be his debut, I guess.”

Hermione listened and referred to the program they were given. She was happy to be with her family and friends and that’s all that really mattered to her. She couldn’t really care less about the actual sport. 

First, they watched the almost sprightly lightweights, who Hermione assumed weighed about as much as her. It was fast-paced and mesmerizing to watch even though it appeared brutal. The spectators yelled, cheered, and jeered and her group joined in the loud atmosphere. 

As the middleweights came on, she felt almost flushed at the energy in the room. Harry was pointing out the boxer he’d mentioned earlier. The black of the boxer’s uniform and gloves starkly contrasted his pale skin and she could see blonde hair peeking out from the black headgear he wore. The muggle was wirey, but she noticed the slabs of defined muscle that outlined his physique. His shoulders were wide and his waist tapered into lean, muscular legs. 

Hermione blushed at some unbidden thoughts rushing to her mind about that deliciously ripped body on hers. She hadn’t had time for romance or sexual partners since her separation and divorce, so apparently, she needed to work in some alone time to her schedule tonight… Perhaps, she would wine and dine herself as a Valentine’s weekend treat. 

She refocused on the match and watched the boxer in black skillfully avoid his opponent and land a few hits, which rippled all his silky muscles. When his back was to Hermione, she had to keep herself from drooling over the definition of his deltoids and his tight arse. 

“Are you okay, Mum?” Rose asked her and jerked Hermione out of her reverie. 

She smiled at her daughter. “Of course, love. Just a bit more violence than I’m used to.” Whether or not Rose believed her, she wasn’t sure. 

And then, a detail about this mysteriously fit boxer caught her hyper-observant mind. Her jaw dropped and she stood up without thinking. Harry and Ron, still conditioned to fight or flight even 20 years after the war, looked at her in concern.

“Going to the loo!” As she said this, the boys were distracted by an uproarious cheer from the crowd and the bell dinging as a winner was declared. 

Hermione didn’t look back, concentrating on what she was about to do. 

*******

Draco wiped the sweat from his eyes with a towel. He’d made it through and won his first match! The adrenaline was still coursing through his veins and he felt like he could duel Voldemort and win. An absurd comparison since the noseless bastard was dead. He huffed a laugh to himself and then smiled at his coach who was clapping him on the back.

Another boxer came up to congratulate him, but none of the muggle's words registered as he watched Hermione Granger, Minister for Magic, stride up to him in the locker room. What in the absolute fuck?! Had he been hit in the head that hard?

Her eyes were ablaze with something he couldn’t pinpoint. “It _is_ you,” she stated and crossed her arms over her chest. The action made her buttoned blouse pull across her bosom and gave Draco a sneak peek at her lavender bra underneath. 

Draco swallowed, still unable to comprehend what was happening. Also, why was he trying to see under Granger’s shirt? What parallel universe had he fallen into? Had Scorp and mini-Potter managed to create another timeline again?

“Granger? What are you doing here?” 

She scoffed. “I could ask you the same question, Malfoy.” 

He ran a hand through his sweat-soaked hair. Draco decided to play it cool. “I’m letting off some steam in a productive way, Granger.”

Her eyes brow raised, lips pursed as if she didn’t believe him.

“How’d you know it was me anyway?” he asked, rubbing the towel over his sweaty torso.

Draco caught her eye on his bare abs and flashed a smirk as she immediately looked away. She looked uncomfortable in a different way as well.

“Your… your tattoo.”

It was a reflex for him to cover his faded dark mark in the wizarding world, but he could pass it off as what she described, a tattoo, in the muggle world. Rage boiled over his euphoric win. 

He stood to his full height, towering over her. “So you came here to remind me of that, Granger? As if it wasn’t burned into my fucking skin already. How magnanimous of you, Minister,” he spat. 

Minister Granger had the decency to look guilty and a bit confused. It was then that he noticed how short she was in comparison to him. He was just about six-foot, but she must have been at least half a foot shorter. 

“I-I didn’t… I didn’t mean to offend you, Malfoy. I was just surprised to see you here and wondered what it was all about and I couldn’t stop myself…”

Draco smirked, his lip drawing up in the signature way he’d used throughout Hogwarts. “Curiosity killed the cat, Granger,” he drawled. 

Her pupils dilated against her honey-brown irises. Was she attracted to him? Even worse, was he flirting with her in a muggle locker room? He watched her swallow, the action making his blood simmer with something other than anger.

She left without another word and Draco stood there more confused than ever. 

*******

Somehow, Hermione had made it back to her family after accosting Malfoy. She faked that she’d gotten a call from her secretary with urgent business she needed to take care of before Monday. Really, she’d gone home to her flat, undressed and crawled into her bed. 

How the hell was Draco Malfoy so damned fit at 40? Had he been yelling and then flirting with her all in the same interaction? It was confusing, but her body knew exactly what it wanted and her mind knew what to imagine to get her juices going. 

Hermione teased her breasts until they were peaked and trailed a hand down to her shaven pussy. She liked to keep it neat even though she hadn’t had a partner in years. Her clit was swollen and throbbing as she pictured long, pale fingers replacing hers. Hermione moaned at the wetness she felt gathering at her folds. 

Her mind then recalled a detail she hadn’t quite been conscious about: Malfoy’s package as he sat, wiping himself down. The boxing shorts were not confining and if what she’d seen was his flaccid member… She bit her lip and then summoned her dildo from her nightstand. It was purple and large enough to have her clenching at the sight. 

Her fingers simply couldn’t replace a long, hard cock. She didn’t even need extra lube as she teased her entrance with the fake cock. To avoid thinking of the object of her desire as Malfoy, she thought of him as some faceless boxer who was ready to ravish her. And oh fuck was he ready!

Hermione nearly came as soon as she’d slid the dildo in fully. Arching her back, she only had to pump it in a few times and stimulate her clit lightly before she was coming completely undone. She panted, muscles completely relaxed as she came down from the orgasmic high. That was the best orgasm she’d had… ever. 

She was utterly fucked with this fantasy. Although, it was only a fantasy about a lean, mean fighter with an Adonis body.

*******

**14 February, 2021**   
**Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire**

It was officially Valentines Day and Draco had instructed his elves to relegate all owls bearing sappy gifts to the foyer except for the Prophet delivery owl. His morning tea burned his tongue and esophagus as he saw the front page of the paper. 

Minister Granger stood proudly as she announced some bill or another. Normally, Draco wouldn’t think anything of it and skip to his favorite sections of the paper. After last night, though, he looked at her. Gone was the bush-haired, frumpy, know-it-all. At 41 years old, Hermione Granger knew how to dress, how to style her unruly curls, and how to show her power without manhandling others with it. She was, dare he say, graceful and well spoken. 

The Minister had an hourglass figure with curves that made most wizard’s mouths water. And now that she’d tossed Weasley to the curb, she was single. An unbidden daydream came to him… He ripped open the blouse she’d been wearing, buttons flying, and tangled his hands in her curls to possess her lipsticked mouth. His trousers tightened at the thought of dominating Hermione Granger, especially in the bedroom. 

He shook his head violently until the absurd notion passed and his mind reeled. While Astoria had hated when he’d resorted to Occlumency, since her sickness had worsened and then her death, he needed it to center himself, like meditation. Draco boxed up his feelings and ignored them for now...

Until later that night when he received a summons from the Minister for Magic herself for an appointment on Monday morning. Perplexed, he somewhat hoped this was some sort of official capacity and not to discuss their interaction in the boxing locker room. Her summons were brief and had only mentioned a tête-à-tête. 

Draco Malfoy had never had a conversation alone with the Golden Girl. Monday filled him with dread.

*******

**15 February, 2021**   
**Ministry of Magic, Office of the Minister**

Her secretary had commented on how nice she looked on Monday morning. Hermione thanked her and waved it off. Perhaps she was wearing a smidge more make-up and her hair had behaved better than usual. She’d worn a cream-colored silk blouse with a matching navy skirt and blazer. Small pearls adorned her ears and clavicle. 

Her stomach flipped as a knock at the door sounded promptly at 9:00 a.m. He was annoyingly punctual. 

“Mr. Malfoy here to see you, ma’am.”

Hermione nodded to her secretary, who despite being professional, seemed intrigued by her boss’s guest. 

“Thank you, Tabitha. That’ll be all,” she said curtly.

Draco Malfoy wore a custom-tailored black three-piece suit that probably cost more than all of her shoes combined. His tie and pocket square were silver and his hair was styled into a loose pompadour. Her hands itched to mess up the carefully styled white-blonde locks. 

“Minister,” he acknowledged before she robotically gestured for him to sit in her guest chair next to the tea service. 

His expression was blank, which made her angry. Why wasn’t he acting as nervous as she was? She hadn’t even told him why she’d summoned him. 

“Thank you for coming to see me, Mr. Malfoy.” She wanted to keep it formal and keep any animosity at bay.

He looked amused, his nonchalance breaking. “One does not ignore or decline a summons from the Minister for Magic, no?”

Hermione smiled coyly and set about pouring them tea. She took it with a spoonful of honey and a splash of milk. He took a few cubes of sugar and a generous helping of cream. 

“I’m sorry,” she suddenly blurted as she watched him stir his tea. His eyes, as silver-gray as his tie, flicked over to her. “I’m sorry for disturbing your privacy on Saturday night. I couldn’t help myself when I thought it was you…”

“The question is, Minister, why couldn’t you help yourself?” 

She bit her lip and his eyes darted down to her mouth before he took a sip of tea. Her hands were shaking, so she squeezed them together in her lap.

“The facts were that I thought I saw a wizard who I haven’t seen in years at a muggle boxing competition in Ireland, someone not known for their participation in the muggle world, and it was entirely unexpected and surprising for me. I wanted to know why. Though, I never really got that answer, did I?”

There it was: the signature Malfoy smirk. “On the contrary, Minister, I did answer your query. It wasn’t an in depth analysis or essay defending my interest and proficiency in muggle boxing, but I do recall answering your question.”

What a smart mouth… And yet, he had been second to her in nearly all classes at Hogwarts and in the eighth year, he’d been on her heels too. Hermione had never realized how intelligent Draco Malfoy was. Sure, he’d been a bully and a bigot growing up, but he was not just that. All reports from her children at Hogwarts said what a smart and kind kid Scorpius Malfoy was as well. Had Draco Malfoy become a decent wizard?

To say this shocked her to the core was an understatement. “Did you summon me to examine me more closely, Minister?” he prodded in a bored yet teasing manner.

She had to squeeze her thighs together. He’s not flirting with you, Hermione. Just being a prat.

“N-no, I wanted to apologize--” She was becoming more and more flustered.

“For checking me out? Alright, I accept and though I’m flattered, I’m not sure we’d get along in the long-run,” Malfoy drawled jokingly.

Her eyes widened, throat suddenly dry. This was not going well at all. Hermione took a sip of tea as a distraction, but managed to spill some of it on her blouse. 

“Bloody hell!” she swore and grabbed her wand. Malfoy was scrutinizing her, leaning back in his chair. 

Hermione glanced at him, his eyes fixed on her bosom where the tea stain resided. She must have imagined the desire and longing on his face. She was stressed by his presence, that was all. 

“You’re not interested in me, are you, Minister?”

She was a deer in headlights. “That’s preposterous!”

“The facts are,” he began using her own wording against her. “That you saw me on Saturday half-naked and sweating and now you’re practically undressing me with your eyes, Minister.”

Hermione scoffed at the accusation. “As if you weren’t doing just that when you were trying to see through my blouse!” 

Instead of denying it and storming out, Draco Malfoy shrugged at the insinuation. “Are you going to sue me for checking out your cleavage, Minister? Trying to send me to Azkaban for looking down your shirt?”

“No,” she ground out, her teeth clenched together. Hermione needed to get through this conversation like an adult even though she wanted to hex him for turning her words against him. “Let’s both be the mature adults I know we are and admit that we are somewhat attracted to one another, but nothing has to come of it because clearly it would never work.”

He raised a pale eyebrow. “We both agree on that, then. What a development!” 

She grimaced. Without anything more to say, Hermione wondered why he was still sitting in her guest chair, sipping his damn, overly-sweetened tea. She crossed her arms and when his eyes dragged over her breasts, Hermione blushed and brought them back into her lap.

At forty-one, she considered herself sexually evolved, but there was something in psychology about being with someone who brought you back to the person you were in the environment you formerly knew them in. Age regression or something like that. Her former nemesis and bully brought her back to her defensive self. 

*******

Draco was surprised that she was giving him the last word. He’d gotten to the bottom of his cup of tea and then he stood. 

“Well, Minister, this has been a strange tête-à-tête and I’m sure you’re busy, so I’ll see myself out.” It wasn’t as though he worked or had anywhere to be, so he strolled to the door and left.

From then on, he only saw Hermione Granger in the papers. He practiced punching in his dedicated gym in the Manor until his knuckles bled and swelled. A simple spell fixed them afterwards, but he was taking out his frustration. 

**2 April, 2021**   
**Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire**

He hadn’t even noticed Scorpius come in and nearly had a heart attack when his son surprised him. He’d come home for the weekend from Hogwarts and Draco had been looking forward to it all week. And he’d meant to pick him up from Kings Cross. 

“So sorry, Scorp! I got distracted. Won’t happen again, son,” he panted and ruffled the boy’s hair. 

The elves had made all of his son’s favorites for dinner that night, but Scorpius looked like he was daydreaming, pushing food around his plate. 

“What’s up, mate?” 

“I need your help… with a girl. She already turned me down once, but I think we’ve become friends and I want to try again,” the boy rushed out, his cheeks pink.

“Who is she?”

“Rose Granger-Weasley.” Draco nearly choked on a buttered prawn. 

“Daaaad! You promised Mum that you wouldn’t do that,” Scorpius reminded him petulantly.

He couldn't really be angry at his son’s admonishment. “It’s not about her blood.”

“I know her mum’s the minister and you don’t like the Weasleys, but she's so smart and beautiful and she's wicked talented on a broom!”

Draco nearly choked again, but took a few cleansing sips of water. The boy was fourteen and didn’t really know what an innuendo was… Slytherin house must have changed since his days.

“Alright, Scorp. I’m just warning you that her parents, especially her father, are not going to be happy if she accepts. If she says yes, make sure you treat her like a queen.” 

“How do I ask her, though?” 

I’m way too sober for this conversation. “Tippy, can you bring me a glass of cabernet?” 

“Have you been nice to her since she rejected you?”

Scorpius nodded. “Good, then your actions should have spoken louder than words. If she says no again, then maybe you’re better off as friends.”

“Dad, were there any girls you were nervous to ask out at Hogwarts?” 

Draco gulped down half of his wine before answering. “Son, when I was growing up, there were girls I was forbidden from asking out because of your grandfather.” 

The boy’s eyes, just like his, widened. “As long as you treat witches respectfully and they treat you with the same respect, then we shouldn’t have any problems, Scorp.” 

*******

**2 May, 2021**   
**Grand Ballroom, Ministry of Magic**

The Gala in remembrance of the Battle of Hogwarts was in full swing and Hermione had to keep herself from overindulging while circulating to greet the many witches and wizards she was expected to speak with. It was utterly exhausting, but the champagne made her feel bold and fuzzy at the same time.

It also made her both more and less aware of Draco Malfoy's intense silver stare. The Malfoys had switched sides at the last minute during the war and Draco and his mother had been pardoned, so it wasn't a surprise to see him at the event. Of course, he looked impeccable in the finest, tailored wizarding robes money could buy. They were midnight blue with silver accents that highlighted his pale hair and eyes. Of course, he'd brought a date, a pureblood witch whom Hermione only recognized from random pages of Witch Weekly. Not that she cared… 

Absently, she fingered the pendant with her children’s birthstones that lay above her cleavage. Silver-grey eyes snagged her honey-brown and then she saw him tracing her neckline, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. They looked soft, his lips, and she tried to prevent herself from imagining how they’d feel on her skin, her sensitive breasts….  
For once, she was devoid of people to greet and she was grateful as she tried to avoid the blonde wizard’s penetrating gaze. Hermione snagged an hors d'oeuvre from a passing tray for some much-needed energy. Then, she excused herself to the loo as no one approached her. 

Touching up her hair and makeup in the restroom, Hermione grounded herself before heading back out to the gala. She was alone and the crowded ballroom in addition to the alcohol had made her ears buzz. Taking a deep breath, she looked into the mirror one last time, except for now there were the eyes that had been following her all night, his tall form looming behind her.

“Malfoy,” she slurred slightly. “This is the ladies’.” 

The frustrating yet somewhat endearing smirk of his appeared. She heard the lock to the door click shut. Her eyes narrowed at him in the mirror.

“I had yet to have an audience with the Minister and I found an opportunity for a private interview,” he drawled.

She needed to act confident and not like a bumbling fool she'd been in her office with him. Hermione feigned fixing a smudge under her eye, ignoring him. 

“You’ve been vying for my attention all night, it seems. Ignoring your date, then?”

“Notice that, did you?” 

Hermione smirked back at him, daring him to continue. Her breath hitched as he walked towards her until his body heat barely grazed the bare skin of her back.

His breath ghosted over neck as he spoke low and deep. “How could I stare at anyone else when you’re wearing this dress, Granger?”

It was quite a bit more risque than ones she’d worn before her divorce… Deep crimson silk stretched across her bosom in a low sweetheart neckline, inch-wide straps trailing over her shoulders to a deep cutout in the back that ended just above her arse. The silk hugged her curves until it flared out like a trumpet from her knees. She knew how good her arse looked, especially with the aid of some shapewear. 

“Are you complimenting the dress or me?” she asked playfully. She was flirting with Draco Malfoy after he locked her in the loo with him… Was she insane?

His eyes were skimming over her body until they found her face. She shivered. “If I said both?” 

“We agreed this would never work, remember?” She heard something rumble deep in his chest. 

He seemed to pout for a second before a devilish smile stretched across his lips. “What about just our bodies? You think they’d fit together nicely?”

She had to bite her lip to keep her moan at bay. Her nipples tightened and tingled from the suggestion alone. Her curls nearly loosened from her chignon as she shook her head violently. 

“We have children, Malfoy. We’re too old to casually hook up. This isn’t the Slytherin common room,” she scoffed even though her body felt betrayed.

His lascivious gaze didn’t leave her. “If only it were…”

Her mind started whirring about why he wanted this so badly…

“Is this some kind of ploy to ruin me, Malfoy? Seduce me and then have our affair splashed across the Prophet? That’s why this won’t work. I don’t know if I could fully trust you to even touch me.”

He was silent, the grin no longer on his face. She walked away from his body heat and towards the door. 

“Hermione,” he said, voice rough with emotion. Hermione turned towards him at the concerning sound. This was more complex than attraction.

“You’re the first… the first witch I’ve considered… after Tori,” Malfoy admitted quietly. 

She felt simultaneously flattered and heartbroken for him. He didn’t have the choice of losing his spouse while she had parted from hers willingly. 

“I’m sorry, Malfoy… If we’d had a better history or even really had any kind of understanding or friendship at all, maybe we could have had something, but I can’t do anything casual, especially when I don’t know what your intentions are.” Hermione took a step towards him, but wasn’t sure it was a good idea to approach him in this state. 

“My intention was to seduce you, Hermione,” his second utterance of her name made her feel breathless. “But I’m no longer the attention-seeking prat you knew in school. I wouldn’t have sold you out or even told a soul… I live a private life and I wish to keep it that way. Perhaps you’re right. I couldn’t handle the publicity that follows you around.”

The door he’d locked swung open for her. Hermione nodded sadly and exited the restroom. A headache from the champagne was building at her temples as she re-entered the gala. 

*******

Draco knew he should have stayed silent, stayed away from the Minister for Magic. However, because he solely relied on a piece of print for his updates on her, he wanted something from her. Anything, really.

So, he wrote to her. Draco sent a few letters critiquing the approach of a bill to abolish nepotism in pureblood businesses. He agreed with her stance, but didn’t agree with her wordings. She didn’t understand, not being enmeshed in the culture, that she would more than likely offend her audience more than call them to action. 

In a response, Granger had asked him if he’d read some obscure manuscript about the brewing of wolfsbane. He knew she’d been campaigning for another bill of rights for the magical creatures, but he wasn’t familiar with the text she was referring to, so Draco read it. It was dense and time-consuming, but what else did he have to do?

*******

**5 June, 2021**   
**Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire**

Blaise had tried to send him a stripper as a birthday gift. Draco Malfoy was officially 41 and he didn’t want a fucking stripper. What he wanted even less were the countless pureblooded witches throwing themselves at his feet by his clueless mother's request. She couldn't take a bloody hint.

He wanted what money couldn’t buy, what he couldn’t have with a swish of a wand. Inconceivably, he wanted Hermione Granger, Minister for Magic, Golden Girl. While he wasn’t going to pine over her, no other witch seemed to measure up, especially not some 20-something stripper.

Draco had fielded a slew of letters throughout the day. Scorpius was at Hogwarts and it was exam cram time, so even when his loving son suggested having dinner in Hogsmeade, he declined. He should just be alone. It was something he was good at and had perfected since Astoria’s passing.

Another letter was delivered and by this time it was nearly 20:00. His birthday was mostly over. He toasted the sender with his glass of firewhiskey before opening it with his gold letter opener. There wasn’t a wax seal, which was odd, but not entirely uncommon.

Dear Draco,

I’m writing to you on your birthday to send my best wishes for another year of life. I used your first name in this letter to also extend my invitation to become better acquainted over a nightcap tonight if you’re available. While it irks me to inflate your ego more than it is, I realized that I haven’t had more intelligent conversations with a wizard since long before our reconnection and correspondence started. It’s a shame we haven’t spoken much before the previous impromptu conversations because I think we could be friends.

I can Floo over to you, if that’s easiest. 

Regards,  
Hermione Granger

He must have read her letter five times before he believed it. She’d said she couldn’t trust him, but here she was giving him a chance. While it was rather presumptuous of her that he was alone on his birthday, he had told her about his solitary lifestyle… Draco had his housecoat on with silk trousers, but he didn’t want to wait to change -- it was his birthday after all and this was his first real present, damn it!

He sent a quick reply to her and gave her the Floo address, hoping she wouldn’t be deterred by the Manor location. His study was nowhere near the completely renovated drawing room, but it may still trigger her. Nervously, he waited, sipping on another glass of firewhisky. 

Draco wondered what she would prefer to drink for their nightcap. Would she like a brandy? He liked it to finish off a night of solitude. 

An hour later, he was interrupted from reading by the Floo activating. His heart stuttered in his chest as a curly head and curvy body stepped out onto his hearth. 

Merde, she's wearing fucking yoga pants! He'd seen them on muggle women before, but the pants combined with her luscious arse threatened to send him into cardiac arrest. She had on a lavender lightweight jumper that was loose in the neckline and he could see her bra straps and shoulders. Her curls were pulled up into a high ponytail and the length of them tumbled around her shoulders. In short, Granger looked utterly fuckable. 

No, Draco, she said just friends in her letter. Calm down! 

“Happy Birthday,” she said rather shyly and then held out a full bottle of Courvoisier cognac. 

It took his mouth a second to catch up and responded, “Thank you and you certainly chose the right kind of gift.”

Her smile was blinding. It was no surprise that the brightest witch of her age thrived on praise! Maybe she even got off on it… Mind out of the gutter, Malfoy!

“Only the best for a Malfoy, isn’t that right, Draco?” 

Her voice saying his given name jolted his cock to life. He couldn’t possibly stand up and greet her now, especially in these silk pants! All he could do was smirk and quickly turn around to grab a few classes from the cart behind him.

“Have a seat, Hermione. Would you like ice?” he said cordially. If he was raised as anything acceptable to normal standards, it was to be a proper host. 

“Yes, please.”

He’d managed to calm down enough to face her while standing up. The bottle of cognac sat his ink blotter now and the Minister for Magic was perched casually on the arm of the leather chair in front of his desk. The way her spine curved and her bum rested against the leather made his insides squirm. 

His hand shook slightly as he poured the liquor into their glasses. Their fingers brushed as he handed her a crystal snifter, a small spark of magic nearly made them drop it. Her eyes were glowing in the low light of his office. Draco clinked her snifter with his.

“To your birthday,” she said warmly.

“Another year older,” he drawled and she smirked lightly.

“I’m always going to be older than you, so no need to feel so glum.”

Hermione Granger was being self-deprecating and teasing him! It was certainly a surreal birthday. He stared into his cognac, taking a long, appreciative sip. 

“Are you sure it’s okay, me being here?”

He snorted and gave her a bewildered look. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“You seem… nervous or something.”

Draco shrugged as nonchalantly as he could. “I wasn’t expecting you to be so… normal.”

The Minister of Magic laughed boisterously. It was a few minutes before she calmed herself with a sip of Courvoisier. He was amused and confused to say the least.

“I am just a normal witch, Mal-- Draco. I eat, sleep, go to work, drink wine, read books, watch shows on the telly, I sometimes even enjoy shopping.” 

“You do seem to prefer muggle clothing, I’ve noticed,” he remarked, trying to sound nonjudgmental. With this view, he couldn’t complain for a second.

She rolled her eyes playfully. “They’re more comfortable most of the time.”

“And those tight yoga pants you’re wearing are comfortable?” He let his eyes run over her arse, hips and legs appreciatively. 

“They sure are! You seem to have had a decent exposure to the muggle world, then?”

Again, he shrugged. “I get out here and there. There’s a lot less staring and reporters trying to harass me in Muggle London.”

Granger snorted into her glass. He raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure you get plenty of stares. You’re not exactly an average looking bloke with the unique hair color and eyes, plus your three-piece suits and all that.” 

Desire swirled in him. He knew he was attractive, but for Granger to go into detail… it was just too tempting!

“Bet you couldn’t keep your eyes off me when I was in the ring. Bet you were praying to yourself that it wasn’t me and just some muggle that resembled me,” he said in a low voice.

She leaned in to hear him and pursed her lips. Those full lips that could give anyone an ear-full. His cock twitched. He’d be a mouthful for her. 

“Maybe I was… but that doesn’t change anything, Draco. I was hoping to get to know you, but somehow we either end up fighting or flirting,” she said in annoyance. 

It was true, he couldn’t argue with that. “Maybe that’s telling, then. We can’t be friends.”

Those words disappointed the Minister for Magic. She was like a Hufflepuff in that way, wanting everyone to get along, to compromise, find a solution. Draco saw her mouth open to argue and spoke again before she could.

“We’ll either just have to fight or fuck, Granger. I’d personally prefer the latter, but a little fighting does seem to rile you up,” he explained with a wink. 

Her mouth hung open and a frisson of lust ran through him. What he wouldn’t give to do anything to that swotty mouth of her. Draco could see the heat rising in her cheeks and across her partially exposed chest. 

*******

There have been very few times when Hermione Granger hadn’t known what to say. Usually, she was trying to pick the right phrasing from a few options, but right now, she didn’t know how to respond to Draco Malfoy’s deduction of whatever they were to each other. Hermione didn’t know what she wanted.

While a fuck sounded absolutely fantastic, it seemed a fight was much more likely. She’d already told him that she didn’t know if she could trust him, even to let him touch her. Was it any different now? Sure, she’d fantasized about a lover with his build and annoying blonde hair, but it was him, Draco Malfoy, sitting a few feet away from her in his pajamas. 

Her knickers were already soaked through at their flirting banter. Her body was on one page and her mind wasn’t even in the same library! She’d said something similar to Ron in February and it still rang true… except now it was an internal argument. 

Silver eyes regarded her with interest and patience. He was Slytherin after all. His gaze made her squirm. 

“Let me phrase it this way, Hermione. Both of us could have basically any witch, wizard, or muggle we wanted, but we keep coming back to each other. I couldn’t keep my eyes off you at the Gala, the way you paraded around in the guise of professionalism was sexy as hell. I wouldn’t have even gone if I knew you wouldn’t have been there. I read a thousand-page tome on wolfsbane at your inquiry and you said it yourself that I was the most intelligent wizard you’ve spoken to and craved that, which is why you sought me out again.”

Hermione thought over his words for a moment, letting them sink into her brain.

“That’s all very logical, Malfoy, but with our past, with our families… It’s too complicated, don’t you think?”

His eyes never left her, never faltered. “Since when has complicated ever stopped Hermione Granger?” 

She took a shuddering breath. Complicated was divorcing her husband of nearly 20 years who had been her best friend. Complicated was raising two children and being Minister. Complicated had been defeating the most powerful wizard of their time at only eighteen years old. 

“You’d have to be sure, Draco. I won’t tolerate blood purity shite nor will I tolerate any backhanded comments or insults about my family including the Weasleys.”

Malfoy drained the rest of his cognac, gaze still on her. “Have I done any of those things since we’ve… reconnected?” 

“No, but you’ve been trying to get into my knickers the whole time.”

“Touché, but I assume that once I’m in your knickers, I won’t want my privileges to be revoked.”

She couldn’t help the giggle that burst from her throat. Hermione shook her head at this situation. They’d have to keep it quiet until they were advanced enough in their relationship---

“Draco!” she gasped. “What about Rose and Scorpius? Aren’t they dating?”

The wizard seemed unfazed. “My son has good taste like his father.” 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Won’t they be erm... weirded out?” 

“We’ll wait to tell them for now, until it’s something to start telling people about.”

“You don’t mind that? Keeping it a secret.”

He poured himself another glass and offered her one. She nodded, her breath picking up as he approached her. 

“Not really, for now. My entire life has been extremely private, like I said before, Granger. Besides, if I can have you all to myself, I definitely prefer that.”

She swallowed hard. “I’m a very busy person, as you can imagine, Draco. You’ll have to share me with all of Wizarding Britain. Are you prepared for that?”

Her heartbeat picked up as he slowly approached her again. His fingers skimmed her cheek as he looked deep into her eyes. Draco’s proximity was making her quiver.

“Even if it’s always nightcaps during the week, Sunday brunches, quickies in your office, I can handle it. I’ve been on my own for far long enough to bide my time. I waited for you to contact me. It’s been over a month since the Gala. I’ve been patient, I think,” he murmured to her.

She fought the instinct to close her eyes as his face lowered towards hers. Hermione blinked slowly after a moment and realized he wasn’t coming any closer. If only to wipe that satisfied smirk off his face, she leaned in for the kiss.

*******

Kissing Hermione Granger was like being set ablaze, lifting into a wind tunnel, and tumbling down a hill until you were wind beaten, singed, and smoking. She whimpered into his mouth as their lips touched and he couldn’t help but kiss her harder if only to extract that sound again. Her hands wound into his hair as his fingers stayed firmly on her jaw and the other hand balanced him on the arm of the chair. 

He growled when her tongue flicked across his bottom lip. Draco chased her tongue into her mouth, tasting her unique flavor and the cognac on her tongue. He let up for a second to breathe and she was back for more, biting his lips lightly. She was going to be the death of him.

The first witch besides his wife whom he kissed in nearly twenty years and he could barely contain himself. Hermione ran her lips across the stubble on his jaw and he shivered at the sensation. 

“Witch, if you don’t want to end up astride my lap in two seconds, you better tell me to stop.”

He closed his eyes, trying to get a grip for when she denied him. Her mouth skirted the path to his ear and he swore he felt her tongue on the lobe. 

“No,” she whispered. “I don’t want you to stop right now, Draco.”

Draco rested his forehead against hers. “I must be dreaming. I never get such amazing gifts on my birthday.”

She made that giggle that caused his brain to feel mushy. He pulled away and helped Hermione to her feet. She was so much smaller and shorter than him… Draco hoped she wasn’t fragile, though. 

He took her seat and then pulled her into his lap like he’d promised. Chastely, he kept his hands on her small waist, but his dick twitched at the warmth of her core hovering over him. She leaned in again and he couldn’t help tugging on her ponytail lightly to angle her the way he wanted. He was rewarded with a gasp and a nip to his lips.

“Can I touch you, Hermione?” 

“Please, Draco…” He’d never heard sweeter words.

Kissing down her neck, he spoke against her skin. “Did you imagine me doing this to you? My hands on you, feeling your curves?”

His hand gripped her lush arse and they moaned in unison. Draco nuzzled her shoulder as she found his pectorals. He’d never realized how small her hands were until they were on him, gripping him like a lifeline. 

Tearing himself away from the warmth of her neck, he skimmed his hands up her hips and waist until he stopped at the roundness of her breasts. Hermione’s dark eyes were glazed over as his thumbs brushed over her nipples.

*******

Even through her sweater and bralette, his touch made her nipples harden and she was becoming putty in his large hands. She shuddered at the lightness of his ministrations as if it was a prelude to something much more carnal. At least he didn’t grope and squeeze them like Ron had even after she’d told him not to and after she’d breastfed two children. 

She could feel his hard shaft nudging her thigh and through the haze of pleasure, Hermione had a decision to make. Did she want to sleep with Draco Malfoy? They’d already agreed to explore whatever they could define this budding relationship as, but would sleeping with him right away give him the wrong idea? No matter how badly her body craved it?

He must have felt her hesitate because his hands left her nipples to settle back on her waist. Still, he gathered her close to him, most likely feeling how she’d soaked through her pants by now. She enjoyed the closeness and the firmness of him beneath her.

“Hermione, we don’t have to do anything more tonight.” From the rough nature of his voice, she sensed that this was the last thing he’d wanted to say. “I wouldn’t suggest postponing it for too long, but I want you to feel comfortable with me, taking that step.”

“Thank you, Draco, that means a lot to me and I know that was a hard suggestion to make,” she said sincerely, slightly teasing him. 

He groaned and shifted under her. Hermione bit her lip at the better feeling of the outline of his package against her. She closed her eyes and shakily stood up from his lap, trying to keep the fantasy of that large cock splitting her open at bay. Before she could fully separate herself from her lust, Hermione captured his lips again.

Draco hummed at the renewed contact and followed her lead. Her neck ached from craning back and she gasped into his mouth when he easily lifted her up. Legs wrapping around his waist, she was climbing him like a big, sexy tree. Her clit brushed the hardness still trapped in his pajamas and she tore away from his mouth to moan. 

Somehow, he ended up pressing her against the office door, dry humping each other into near-oblivion. Hermione was close to cumming with the stimulation of his hips on hers and his lips and tongue doing something completely sinful to her neck and the tops of her breasts. And then, they were interrupted by knocking at the door.

“Drakey!!! Your birthday is almost over!”

“Fucking Blaise…” she heard him growl into her hair.

Hermione quickly spelled the door to be locked just before the wizard behind it started jiggling the handle.

“Why’s the door locked, mate? You wanking in there?”

Draco cursed again. “Go away, Blaise!” 

“You should have just accepted the stripper I sent, mate!”

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him. His eyes shut, clearly annoyed by his friend’s interruption and running mouth. Draco reluctantly lowered her back down, her legs barely able to support her. Of course, he smirked at her inability to stand thanks to his expert ministrations, so she did the mature thing and hit his arm. 

“Ah!” She rolled her eyes at his theatrics.

Blaise jiggled the handle again. “Is someone in there with you, Drake?” 

“No, you fuckwit! I just stubbed my toe. Hold on.” She cast a muffliato quickly.

“You big baby,” she teased, rubbing his arm where she’d hit him. “You’re a boxer for Merlin’s sake!”

He grinned roguishly. “You’ve always packed a mean punch, Granger… Now be a good girl and sit over there while I get rid of Blaise.”

“I should just go, Draco,” she said, a little disappointed and slightly turned on by him calling her a ‘good girl.’

“Please don’t go yet, I want to say goodbye… Properly. I’ll just open the door a crack and tell him to fuck off.”

She nodded, removed the silencing charm, and watched from the chair he’d occupied earlier. Her lips were swollen, her skin tingling, and her pussy was throbbing as she heard him curse out his friend with some excuses. Hermione decided to gather herself while he was distracted and stood on jellied legs. 

Giggling softly, she watched as he closed the door and leaned his forehead against the wood surface. A loud sigh escaped his lungs before he turned back towards her, his eyes darkening. She couldn’t help the fact that her heart started racing at his approach. 

His hand dwarfed hers, his pale skin against her bronze, as he raised it to his lips and pressed a kiss on her knuckles. She felt like she’d stepped into a Victorian novel! 

“Thank you for the birthday nightcap, Granger,” Draco purred, silver eyes glinting.

She swallowed and responded, teasingly, “What happened to calling me Hermione?”

His hand moved to her hip, stepping into her body. Hermione attempted to suppress the shudder of delight.

“You’re Granger when I’m thinking about doing naughty things to you. You’re Hermione when I’m trying to be a good man.” His smirk nearly made her melt. 

Fuck this man was sin on a stick.

Licking her lips, she said, “Alright, Mr. Darcy, I should probably take my leave.”

At his confusion, she tried not to laugh. “Is that a Muggle person?” 

“A fictional character in a classic British novel. Mr. Darcy is a bit like you, actually.”

Draco’s expression was considerate and she couldn’t have been more surprised when he said, “I’ll have to read this novel sometime. Can I have a goodbye kiss, Granger?”

“I’ll lend you a copy,” she said with a growing smile and lifted onto her toes to kiss him. He dragged her into a heavy snog, similar to the one they’d engaged in earlier. When they finally broke away for breath, Hermione had to carefully find her footing on the hearth. 

“Can I owl you?” Draco asked, hands now in his pockets. Was he trying to appear casual when he was actually as desperate as she was to see him again? Or was he afraid he’d reach out for her again?

“Of course.”

*******

And that’s how Draco Malfoy concluded his 41st birthday... with a long wank in the shower to the memories of Hermione Granger’s body against his. If he had to rank his birthdays, this one would be the best since before Astoria’s health started disintegrating. There was still a slight hollowness that his wife had left deep inside him, but time was healing it slowly.

Draco spilled his seed all over the marble shower wall, leaning against it for support. He finally felt like he had something to look forward to besides his son’s homecomings, boxing, and quidditch matches. Once he’d toweled off, he fell straight into his king-sized bed and slept deeply.

It took two days for Draco to muster up his courage to owl her. He didn’t want to seem too desperate and he knew she was busy -- she’s the Minister for fucking Magic for Slytherin’s sake! Part of him still thought of the night of birthday as a dream, a fantasy, though Blaise’s interruption assured him of its reality.

If he could see her just once that week, he’d be happy. 

Draco kept glancing at the window for a response, barely making it through a page in his book for an hour after he’d sent the owl. After no response came, which really wasn’t surprising, he went down to his gym to burn off some steam. Even though he’d worked up quite a sweat, once dinner time came, he didn’t feel like eating. 

Another unbidden shower wank session later, Draco tried to return to his book Alchemy, Ancient Art and Science by Argo Pyrites. A tapping at the window startled him awake an undetermined amount of time later. He nearly tripped over the coffee table in his haste to open the window. It was a Ministry owl with a letter that was stamped with the Minister’s seal.

Draco ripped the letter slightly after grabbing it from the owl. He threw the bird a treat without looking, carefully opening the note even though his hands were shaking with anticipation. 

Dear Draco,

  
While I’m not sure I can spare time for another nightcap, how does lunch on Friday sound?   
We can order in at my office -- my treat! Please use my office Floo; it’ll be open at 12:30.

Yours,  
Hermione

“Fuck me,” he said breathlessly as he saw how she signed the note. Yours, Hermione. More and more, Draco wanted that. It had been years since he’d wanted anyone as badly as he wanted Hermione Granger. 

*******

**5 June, 2021**   
**Ministry of Magic, Office of the Minister**

Tabitha knew something was going on, Hermione just knew it. Not only had the Minister been in a good mood, she was more put-together. In order to avoid further suspicion, Hermione waited until noon to apply lipstick, touch up her hair, and slip into higher heels. She’d locked her office door for good measure even though Tabitha had said she was going out for lunch. 

Her first thought was to order Indian takeaway, but then she remembered how she’d left Draco Malfoy last time: their mouths barely able to separate for breathing. Not even a breath-freshening charm and mouthwash could completely negate curry. With their breath in mind, Hermione ordered a few Italian dishes instead. She assumed Malfoy ate meat, but she ordered a vegetarian option in case. 

The Floo lit up and butterflies erupted in her stomach. She hadn’t had this kind of nerves since she and Ron had started dating. It had been nearly 20 years since she felt excited for a date! The realization made her feel old, but the heated look in Draco’s eye as he appraised her after stepping through made her feel sexy.

“Why Minister, you needn’t have gone through all this trouble for me!” he smirked -- it was now sensual and endearing rather than snide and insulting. 

Hermione hoped squeezing her thighs together wasn’t noticeable as he took in the spread of food before them. 

“I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I ordered a variety. I can always have the leftovers another day.”

They began serving themselves on separate plates like a family-style meal, the rich scents making Hermione’s mouth water. All their lunch needed was a glass of wine, which of course she wouldn’t partake in during the workday. 

“I should notify the Prophet that the Minister eats leftovers,” Draco smirked before savoring some linguini. 

Hermione choked on a laugh and gave him a fake glare. She couldn’t help but watch his jaw work and then his throat when he swallowed. A thrill of desire ran through her veins. Politely, she went back to focusing on her food, but she wasn’t really hungry… for food. 

Stop acting like a randy teen, Hermione! She took a sip of water and managed to cough part of it up in her distraction. Hermione waved off Draco as he expressed his concern. 

*******

He made the Minister for Magic nervous. She’d been flushed before and now she’d started coughing from a drink of water. Draco wanted her hot and bothered, but not so nervous she couldn’t act like a human being! He set his plate and fork down.

“Hermione,” he said firmly. She looked startled for a second, then blinked at him in question. “You might think I’m an absolute arse for suggesting this, but I think we may need to... proceed with our relationship on an unorthodox timeline.”

She cocked her head in a curious way, deciphering his meaning. Her eyebrows drew together and all he wanted to do was smooth away her confusion. Her plate joined his on the table. Draco ran a hand through his hair, knowing that his suggestion was going to prompt an argument. 

“Remember when I said we’d either be good at fucking or fighting?” Hermione chewed on her lip, nodding. “I make you nervous because, well, you’re attracted to me and presumably you’ve been celibate for as long as I have and… We may need to proceed with the physical side of our relationship before the dating phase in order to reduce the anxiety around our very mutual attraction.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. “You want us to sleep together before dating?” she blurted out. 

She appeared more surprised than angry, at least. Draco sighed. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m proposing. Without inhibitions last week, you know we would have, but the pretense of dating prevented that. Yet, it appears that our inhibitions are preventing our traditional dating, especially in secret.”

The Minister for Magic appeared to be mulling over his outlandish proposal. It was an outrageous proposition, but they weren’t young anymore. They were responsible, unattached adults and it wasn’t meaningless sex or anything… They were in a relationship, albeit an unestablished one, but they wanted to be together for more than just sex. Draco just wanted Hermione to be herself, be comfortable with him and she couldn’t do that if she was hyper-focused on her libido.

“Very well,” she said succinctly. Draco’s jaw dropped and he gaped for longer than he meant to.

“Seriously?”

Hermione shrugged. “Your logic is sound, once again.” She had the audacity to smirk at him. 

The little minx... Was it a sign of something perverted that her compliment made him instantly hard? Draco cleared his throat and tried to adjust himself discreetly. 

Hermione glanced down at her wristwatch and scoffed. “I’ve only a half-hour more left in my lunch break, Draco. I’ve a meeting scheduled right after our lunch.”

“I wasn’t suggesting we do anything now, Hermione,” he said placatingly. “Though I wouldn’t object to a snog…” Draco raised an eyebrow in offering.

“I can only allot fifteen minutes for snogging, Mr. Malfoy. Merlin knows you’ll need to leave me with another fifteen minutes to straighten my hair and makeup before meeting,” she teased. 

Draco watched her rise from her chair and walk to the edge of her desk. Her pert bottom rested on the wooden edge and he bolted towards her. Slotting himself between her thighs, Draco immediately claimed her mouth and buried a hand in her curls. She whimpered against him, but gave as good as she got; nipping, sucking, caressing, scratching. 

“Fuck,” he panted into her throat, kissing the slender column as her hands torn their way into his suit. “Granger!” Draco moaned as she licked at his jaw, flicking her tongue expertly.

How he wanted that delightful, wet tongue on his cock! And here he was snogging the living daylights out of the Minister for Magic in her office, on her desk… The image wouldn’t have worked if it were anyone except Hermione Granger, but it certainly made him want to take her now. 

Her thighs squeezing around him made his cock throb. He was forty-one not fourteen, he could certainly wait to have sex with this gorgeous witch… Couldn’t he?

“Tell me you’re available tonight, Granger,” he growled into her clavicle. Her fingers clenched in his hair.

She let out a strangled groan. “I’m not… Dinner with the Potters.” 

“Nightcap?” Draco countered, his thumb brushing beneath one of her breasts. She arched into him -- so fucking responsive!

Hermione hummed. “Alright. It might be late, though.”

“I don’t have a bedtime, Minister,” he purred and felt her shiver against him. “Do you want to Floo to the manor or do you want me to come to yours?”

He was awfully curious about where she lived, but it didn’t matter where they met up as long as he could see, touch, and hopefully fuck her. She seemed to come to her senses at the mention of the manor, though. As she leaned away from him, as much as she could when she was pressed into her desk, Draco delighted in her smeared lipstick and curls escaping her coiffure. 

“You’d come to my cottage?” she asked, almost hopefully. He smirked at her. At least he hadn’t ruined the mood.

“You say that like I wouldn’t follow you to the ends of the earth.”

She raised her eyebrow in challenge. He sighed. “Fine, maybe I’m not that brave, but I certainly wouldn’t mind seeing your cottage… amongst other things in your possession.” 

He kissed her again, wanting to revel in the heat of her mouth for a little longer. She mewled as their tongues stroked one another and his erection pressed into her stomach. Draco wanted her so badly and she felt the same. His breath hitched as one of her dainty fingers snuck into his shirt between two buttons. 

Even at that simple touch he was ready to explode. 

“Granger…” he said warningly against her neck. She let out a self-satisfied hum. 

Then, a vibration started near her hip where he was pressed so closely to her, bodies molded together by magnetic attraction. He glanced down, startled, and realized it was where she’d placed her wand! This saucy little witch had a thigh holster and the discovery alone was giving him more fantasies. 

Hermione tapped her thigh to silence it. “Looks like our time is up, Mr. Malfoy.”

Draco groaned, but didn’t move away from her. He pressed a chaste kiss on her smeared mouth, her lips plump from his arduous attention. 

“I’ll see you later, then?” 

“I can Floo call you when I get home from the Potters’.” 

He felt himself leaning into her again as they spoke. It was as if she had a gravitational pull over him, reeling him in without even being conscious of it. 

“Can I bring anything to drink for our nightcap?”

Hermione shook her head. “Just yourself, Draco. Let’s be honest,” she tugged on his tie. “I’ll probably be a little buzzed from one too many glasses of wine at dinner to soothe my nerves.”

“Fuck, woman,” he whispered. “Don’t come home drunk, though. I won’t bed you if you’re half-conscious.”

Hermione laughed. “‘Bed me?’ You sound like a royal prat when you say things like that.” 

His eyes held hers before skittering down her body. “Would you rather me say exactly what’s on my mind? Exactly how many positions I want you in before the sun rises tomorrow? Would you rather me tell you that I plan on feasting on your pussy and drinking your---”

Knock knock.

“That’s my ten minute warning!” Hermione hissed, biting her lip. “Go now, Malfoy, before I decide to climb you like a tree again.” 

Dreadfully amused and aroused, Draco Flooed back to the Manor for yet another long wank in the shower.

*******

Hermione barely had enough time to straighten her appearance before her meeting. Thankfully, it was with the Head of the Department of Mysteries, Saul Croaker, who was always a bit eccentric due to his line of work with time-magic. The Minister of Magic, though she was extremely fascinated by time-magic ever since third year, barely paid attention to what the Unspeakable was saying. 

If Croaker suspected her preoccupation, he never said anything. Perhaps, he was used to blank stares as he described his work. Once the meeting was over, Hermione concentrated on mundane paperwork, putting more effort in than she usually did to distract herself.

Even with piles of documents, her workday dragged on, much to Hermione’s dismay. She was anxious and she’d rarely ever had this kind of impatience as the Minister for Magic. Usually it was stress or confidence, but hardly ever wanting her job to be over...

Once she could conceivably leave for the day, the Minister took extra time to relax and pamper herself before dinner with the Potters and a nightcap with Malfoy. I never thought I’d ever think those two surnames in a sentence together after the trials… Hermione had to peel her knickers from her body, which were sticky with arousal from snogging Draco and the anticipation of later. Her bath was luxurious and jasmine-scented. Her matching set of bra and knickers were silver lace, a lovely color on her bronze skin and complemented her lover’s eyes. 

**June 11, 2021**   
**12 Grimmauld Place, London**

Hermione was always in awe at the transformation of Grimmauld Place after the war. Harry and Ginny had put a lot of work into making it a less dark and foreboding residence. Kreacher had even turned his grumbling act around until he’d passed away about a year before. It was no longer the grubby safehouse of the Order, but rather a lovely, bright home. 

“You look rather nice, Hermione,” Harry greeted her with a kiss on her cheek. Hermione rolled her eyes and reciprocated.

When she entered the kitchen, Ginny was pouring three glasses of wine. The redhead turned around and appraised Hermione. Ginger brows furrowed, brown eyes widening. 

“Do you have a date tonight?”

“What? No! I’m having dinner with you two. That’s why I’m here,” Hermione said baldly. 

Ginny didn’t look convinced, but it seemed Harry was going to allow his wife to do the snooping on his best friend. The Chosen One was setting the table in the dining room and left the witches with the wine.

“It’s okay if you’re seeing someone, Hermione. You’ve been divorced for long enough and none of us would blame you for moving on. Even the Minister for Magic has needs.”

She flushed at Ginny’s innuendo. “There is someone!” the former Weasley girl hissed.

Hermione was a horrible liar, so she had to come clean, but not squeaky clean. “Fine, but you can’t say anything to anyone! Can you imagine the press with this private information? And I can’t tell you who he is until… until I’m sure it’s going to work out.”

Ginny grinned excitedly and had a dangerous glint in her eye. She handed Hermione a glass of pinot grigio and levitated their dinner into the dining room. 

Hermione was thankful that Ginny didn’t bring up the topic of her new lover, but she caught the ginger’s sly glances throughout dinner. Harry seemed more or less unfazed by his wife’s behavior -- the youngest Weasley was always a bit of a nosy witch like her mother. Her best friend seemed tired from work, but otherwise content with a warm meal, wine, and her company. She was sure that he’d ran his hands through his hair countless times that day, the thick, unruly black hair sticking out at all angles. 

The Potters were a good distraction and she focused on listening to the updates on their jobs and her niece and nephews. Hermione felt the alcohol buzzing through her veins and neurons, so she felt confident that what she’d told Draco earlier would be true. She wouldn’t be drunk, but she’d be delightfully pliant for him later. 

Hermione held her tongue when she nearly had spilled her nightcap plans to Ginny before she left. Luckily, the Floo whisked her away to her cottage in the sleepy Muggle village she’d moved to during her separation and then divorce. Her home was only accessible by restricted Floo access and was heavily warded due to her status as the Minister, so she adjusted the Floo to accept a visitor from Malfoy Manor before calling Draco over.

**11 June, 2021**   
**Granger Cottage**

She toed her heels off and shook her hair out of the bun that was strangling her mass of curls while she waited for him. Pixies erupted in her stomach despite the headiness of the wine in her system. The hearth glowed for her impending visitor and she sat up a little straighter on the small couch.

A body started exiting the fireplace, but instead of platinum blonde, to her horror a flaming head of red hair came through. For a split-second, Hermione thought it was her ex-husband visiting without precedence or warning. It turned out to be his sister who she’d seen not twenty minutes ago!

“Ginny!” she shrieked. “What are you doing here?”

The witch held out a covered plate, barely attempting to look innocent. “You left your piece of pie that you said you wanted.”

A bloody, fucking piece of pie!!! Hermione was fuming at her friend/ex-sister-in-law. Snatching the plate out of her hand, she levitated it to the kitchen and then tried to bodily shove Ginny back through the Floo. Trying to do anything physical against a former Weasley, Quidditch player, and mother of three was like trying to move a brick wall without magic. 

Another visitor alighted from the Floo. Hermione’s brain hadn’t calculated a plan so quickly since their daring escape from Gringotts during the war! The second she saw part of Draco’s form appear, she hit him with a disillusionment charm. 

Ginny was examining the Floo, but from what Hermione could tell, she couldn’t see her current visitor. Relief washed through her and now if only Malfoy could--

“Granger, why is the She-Weasel here?” 

Bollocks.

Ginny’s jaw dropped. “MALFOY?!”

Hermione cancelled the charm on him and he became fully visible. He’d folded his arms across his wide chest, eyes darting between the two witches. The Minister for Magic struggled to say anything. 

“Granger,” he repeated, trying to get an answer.

She sighed in frustration. “You couldn’t have kept your mouth shut just this once!”

“How was I supposed to know you were going to try to hide me from someone who I didn’t expect to be here?” 

Hermione could feel Ginny’s eyes on them, her mind undoubtedly filled with questions. Questions that Hermione didn’t want to answer. Taking a deep breath, she tried to assess the situation rationally.

“Now that the cat’s out of the bag--”

“More like ‘ferret’!” Ginny quipped. 

Malfoy yelled, “Hey! That was one bloody--”

“Enough, you two!” Hermione interrupted. The blonde and redhead glared at her. “Don’t make me silence you.”

Her guests were silent even though Ginny’s mouth was still hanging open. Draco’s lips were tightly pursed, his jaw working. 

“Draco,” his blonde eyebrows shot up. “I’m sorry for yelling at you. It’s not your fault that Ginny was being a sly git.

“Ginny, I won’t _obliviate_ you if you promise to not tell anyone, _even Harry_ , about this and leave us alone until we decide to announce something,” she directed sternly.

“Ah, ah!” Hermione said as Ginny tried to speak. “Don’t make me do what I did to Marietta Edgecombe either… I will make you sign a contract if you cannot abide by these rules.”

A little air seemed to deflate out of the redheaded witch. “Deal?” Ginny nodded dejectedly.   
“Deal, Hermione. I won’t say anything to anyone. But can you at least tell me how this happened?” she gestured between her and Malfoy.

Hermione met Draco’s eyes and shrugged. He smirked at her in that sexy, disarming way. She really needed to get laid by him, preferably as soon as Ginny left.

“You see Weaselette--”

“It’s Potter now.”

“That’s not any better, really.” Ginny scoffed at him, but Hermione was interested in his version of events. “It all started with the Minister for Magic here attending a boxing match and seeing the sexiest boxing champ in the ring. I believe her knickers were quite wet before she realized who I was…” He winked at her and she rolled her eyes. 

She really couldn’t disagree even though he was being a bit crass and dramatic. 

“She confronted me and we got into a bit of a tiff in the locker room. Her knickers were then in a twist. Then, I got a summons from the Minister for Magic for a meeting wherein I received an apology from the Golden Girl herself after which we admitted our mutual yet frustrating attraction to one another.”

Hermione had to jump in on this. “Then, Malfoy here, decided to follow me into the loo at the gala and proposition me. I turned him down, though.”

Draco huffed and resumed his telling. “And yet, who showed up on the eve of my birthday for a nightcap? Who snogged me within an inch of my life against my office door?” He was predatorily walking towards her now. 

She flushed and glanced at Ginny. The ginger looked as though she were watching a reality TV show and all she needed was some popcorn. But all Hermione could focus on was Draco’s approach and how it got her blood thrumming.

A whistle sounded behind him. They weren’t even touching, but the room felt like it had gone up several degrees and the magical tension was heavy in the air. 

“As much as I’d love to stay to see how this turns out and how touchable Malfoy’s arse is, I should go.”

*******

“Please do,” Draco said, still gazing at Hermione hungrily. His fingers found the curve of her hips and he felt her shudder.

“You owe me a huge apology, Ginevra Weasley Potter!” Hermione called over his shoulder right before he kissed her soundly.

Draco had never thought much about snogging after he’d married Astoria. Sure, they’d kissed and made love and fucked, but snogging was not a necessary part in their relationship. Now, though, he couldn’t get enough of Granger’s pouty lips and the way she sighed into his mouth. She tasted of white wine and some kind of chicken they’d had for dinner and something entirely all her.

“Draco,” she panted as he kissed along her jaw, teasing the skin lightly. 

“Hmm?”

“Do you want to see the bedroom or do you plan to fuck me right here?” He growled and really didn’t care which scenario happened.

Putting his lips to her ear, he whispered, “Either way, love, you’d better lock the bloody Floo.” 

Her laugh turned into a moan as he nipped her earlobe, pressing his body firmly into her. He let her pull away to grab her wand and then allowed himself to be led down a small hallway. It was a small cottage, like he imagined, but when she pushed open her bedroom, he understood why she lived here.

The primary bedroom was lined with bookshelves with a queen-sized bed in the middle. When she slept, she was surrounded by parchment, ink, and leather bindings. Hermione Granger slept in a library.

“Does this fulfill a fantasy of library sex?” he wondered aloud. Hermione smirked at him. 

“Seeing as I haven’t slept with anyone else in it, that would make it the first time fulfilling such a fantasy, wouldn’t it?” she asked coyly. 

This is the witch he wanted: the confident, sexy, candid Hermione Granger. While the nervous one was cute in a first-year student kind of way, he wanted to ravish the mature Granger in her library-bedroom. The scent of her and the books combined was a heady cocktail in his head.

He grinned. “I’ll make sure to show you the manor library next time you’re over.”

Her eyes lit up even as he walked her backward towards the bed. She gasped when they toppled onto the cotton sheets. Draco took a second to examine what she was wearing. Her top was slightly askew and he could see silver lace hugging her breast. His thumb brushed the neckline to the side to expose more of her bra, an aureole faintly visible beneath. 

Draco ducked his head to tease her over the lace with his tongue, her nipple budding for him. Her head fell back with a sigh as he continued to make her writhe and her body respond. Hermione reached down to tug her top off and he was rewarded with deep olive-toned skin. His thumb continued to brush the nipple he’d already attended to while he gave the other the same treatment with his mouth.

Hermione was arching into him, begging him for more. He didn’t think he’d been any harder before than he was now. His dick was aching for her and for release. Luckily, he’d gone home and wanked after lunch, but nothing could prepare him for the reality of her. 

Draco pulled away, standing up and towering over her panting form. She looked up at him with glassy eyes, licking her lips. He unbuttoned his shirt slowly and then sank to his knees in front of her and grappled with her trousers. Once they were thrown behind him, Draco drew her legs over each shoulder, kissing up one thigh slowly.

Her hips bucked and he held her down with one hand. His tongue traced where the silver lace met the crease of her thigh and saw the muscle quiver. She was fisting the sheets above him and he could smell the sweet musk of her arousal.

"Have you been dripping wet for me all day, Granger?" he purred.

She keened as his nose pressed into the crotch of her knickers and inhaled her scent deeply. 

"Please! Draco..."

"What do you want, love?" he asked, kissing her other thigh.

"Draco!" she protested, unable to ask what she wanted.

"Say it. Say what you want, Hermione."

"Lick me! Lick my pussy and make me cum on your tongue, Draco!" The words tore from her lips as if by _veritaserum_.

He smirked into her groin. "Good girl." 

A strangled moan came before he magically cut through her panties and tentatively swiped his tongue over her folds. Draco knew she'd have a bit of a praise kink…

*******

His nimble tongue worked her over, spreading her lips open, finding her throbbing clit, and tracing her opening. Then, he gave her a broad lick from bottom to top and her mind went fuzzy. In her haze, his finger had started plunging into her cunt, mouth nibbling at her bundle of nerves. 

What had started out as exploratory turned intense and Hermione soared over the edge, muscles clenching and releasing. She felt a gush below and only in the aftermath realized that she'd drenched him in cum. 

"Holy fuck," Draco said in awe as his head appeared above her.

Hermione couldn't move. Her body felt like it had been hit with a jelly jinx. His face was glistening as he eyed her hotly, his silver irises molten in them dim lighting.

He sucked her juices off his long fingers she'd so admired and she groaned at the sight. Wiping the excess from his face, Draco removed his trousers. He hadn't been wearing pants underneath.

"That was the sexiest thing I've ever seen, Hermione."

She smiled shyly and bit her lip. " I-I uh, I don't think I've ever done that before with anyone else," she confessed.

He groaned, eyes rolling skyward as he stroked his rod. And it certainly was a rod: girthy and long, Hermione was both thrilled and nervous to take him now that she saw it in the flesh.

*******

Draco saw her eyeing his cock greedily, but there was a glimmer of hesitation at his size. She reached out, stopping a few inches away from where his hand was tugging at the swollen flesh. Her doe eyes glanced up at him. He shook his head.

“Up on the bed, Granger.”

She bit her lip as if deciding whether or not to obey. “I promise you, love. I will fuck you into the mattress, but you’ll have to give me some room to do that,” he coaxed. 

Hermione Granger climbed back into her bed, leaving a wet spot at the end of it where she’d came all over his face. She’d been absolutely spectacular and the fact that he’d been the only one in her life to make her squirt made him even more satisfied with how the night was going.

“Draco,” she said huskily from her prone position as he crawled over to her. “Will you… erm… prepare me more?”

Her eyes darted from his eyes to his cock jutting out at her. He nodded and leaned over to kiss her. Hermione’s tongue lapped at her own juices that lingered on his mouth and his tip pressed into the soft skin of her thigh. 

She was opening herself up to him as they moved skin-on-skin. He sank two fingers back into her heated core; she was drenched, muscles rippling around his digits. Draco moaned into her chest and she panted at his touch. A third finger joined, her walls stretching to accommodate the intrusion.

“Gods…” Granger groaned, eyes closing. “I need you.” He swiped at her clit with his thumb and she clenched around his hand. 

“You’re ready for me, then?” 

She hummed in response and then those golden-bronze eyes were begging him. He couldn’t say no. He couldn’t ever say no to this witch.

“Fuck, Hermione,” Draco breathed as he parted her thighs further, smearing her thighs with her own slickness. “You don’t know how badly I’ve wanted this…”

She bucked as he gathered some of her slick on his cock, trying to coat it well enough to slide inside her more easily. He could always use a lubrication spell, but it wasn’t the same. And then, he froze.

“Contraception?” Draco blurted out.

Her eyes widened and then softened. “It’s okay. I can’t have more children, Draco. After Hugo, I had my tubes tied.”

While he wasn’t sure what that meant since it sounded muggle, Draco nodded and relished the idea of cumming inside her without fear.

He notched his throbbing head at her entrance and started working his way into her tight pussy. Her breath hitched and he spread her legs a little wider. She arched her back and he slid in further, savoring her wetness. 

“You feel so fucking good, Granger. I can’t wait until I’m all the way inside you, deeper than you’ve had anyone.”

Her nails raked at his shoulders as he started to fill her up even more. Draco knew he was stretching her more than she’d ever had. Weasley wasn’t that big. 

“Fuck… Draco. I don’t know…” she trailed off as he started to bottom out inside her. 

*******

Hermione was so fucking full. It was so different than she’d had in the past. It bordered on painful, but it wasn’t, not really. It was uncomfortable for a handful of seconds and then she needed to move. 

“There it is love, you’ve taken all of my thick cock. Is it too much?” Draco said in a strained voice.

She hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath and let it out with a “No!” Hermione started squirming beneath him and he growled.

“Please… Draco. Move!”

He pulled out halfway and thrust back in, a moan tearing from the back of her throat as he started a rhythm. One thigh draped over his hips as he thrust in and out, finding spots within her that she didn’t know existed until now. It sounded and felt obscene as her next orgasm built.

“Are you going to cum all over my cock, Granger?” She gasped as his words were all she needed to fly over the edge into bliss.

Hermione’s muscles clamped down on him in the most painfully pleasurable way, her voice unable to carry the raw sound of her rapture. She was boneless a few seconds later, realizing that Draco was still thrusting inside her, guiding her down from her orgasm.

“You soaked me again,” he murmured, staring at where their bodies joined. Hermione looked there too, wondering how in the world she could possibly fit that large of a cock inside her and not come apart at the seams! Although, she guessed he had made her fall apart and he was still hard…

He rose up on his knees, his hands clutching her arse and lifting it up to meet his hips. Her upper back and head were the only parts still on the bed as he continued to fuck her. The new angle made her eyes roll back.

Her knees would probably leave bruises on his hips, but she couldn’t get close enough to him. She wanted more, more, more! Hermione cupped her breasts and she saw Draco’s eyes darken.

“That’s it, Granger. Show me how you like it. You feel like heaven, fuck!” 

His voice was pure sin and his words were straight smut. Everything about this was erotic and she didn’t understand how she hadn’t fucked him sooner. His mouthwatering abdominals were working as his hips worked into her. She pinched her nipples as he thrust a little harder and came again, her pussy attempting to milk him dry.

Draco moaned somewhere above her as she couldn’t keep the tears from spilling at the intenseness of her third la petit mort. When she came to her senses, Hermione was now on her side, snuggled into Draco’s strong arms. She realized he was still buried deep inside her, still rock solid.

Silver eyes were examining her, his hand running up and down her back. Draco Malfoy cared about her, that much was true. Her heart fluttered and she kissed him slowly, her cunt squeezing around him again.

“Can you handle more, Granger?” he asked in a deep voice. She swallowed.

“I think so… You didn’t need to hold out on me,” she teased, but winced as her hips shifted with him lodged within her body.

He chuckled. “I wanted to go as long as possible for you, love. Can’t disappoint you the first time around, can I?”

Hermione whimpered as he pulled out and away from her. Her own cum slid down her thighs and made his reddened cock shine. Her pussy squeezed hollowly at the sight.

“Turn over for me, love,” he requested, twirling his finger. “I want to see that lush arse.”

Hermione complied, now trusting that whatever he did next was more than likely going to be enjoyable. After all, he had prepared her, checked in with her several times. He was an ideal sexual partner in that regard, plus his spontaneity also gave him an edge.

A loud groan echoed in the room. Hermione glanced over her shoulder to see his eyes glued to her backside where she was dripping, arse on display. The wolfish look he had while he continued to stroke himself made her shiver in anticipation.

“You have no idea how sexy you are, Granger. You’re perfect.” 

After two children, Hermione had sometimes doubted her weight and all the curves and curveballs motherhood had given her, but to hear and see it from a man as sexy and selective as Draco Malfoy made her insecurities disappear. Ron had told her she was beautiful, yet these affirmations of her body from someone who’d taunted her earlier in life was icing on the cake.

*******

He could bask in this sight forever if his cock wasn’t so fucking hard and his balls weren’t so blue. Draco had been able to hold off, but now he wanted her in one of his favorite positions. His hand reached out to stroke the curve of her arse cheek.

“Can I take you from behind, love? I promise I’ll finish with you this time. Just one more for me,” he pleaded.

Her response nearly made him cum. “Please, Draco!”

Draco wasted no time in sheathing himself into the best cunt he’d ever had. She took a few seconds to adjust to him this time before he started pounding into her. Her moans were being absorbed by the bedding as she fisted her hands into the sheets. 

He couldn’t get enough of her walls gripping him and gushing around his turgid cock. It was better than he’d imagined, fucking her. Her arse jiggling against him with each thrust was becoming too much, too stimulating for his body and mind. He was so close!

Wrapping an arm around her waist, Draco dragged her up against his chest, so he could fuck into her more soundly. She was gasping, mewling.

“I’m going to cum, Granger. I’m going fill you up with my seed. Are you close?” he rasped. 

“Mmmm! M-my clit,” she cried helplessly, squirming against him. 

Draco lost his load at touching her hard little bud that was so slick and her pussy tightening around him like a vice. He rested his forehead on her shoulder as he pumped erratically and released deep inside of her. 

*******

The swelling of his cock made her cum in combination of his flick of her clit. He laid them down again, his erection slowly softening in her ravaged cunt. Hermione kept spasming from the four orgasms he’d given her in a matter of an hour. She’d never cum that many times in one session.

Who knew sex in her forties could be better than the last two decades? Or maybe it was simply the wizard? His cock may be large, but he knew how to use it... 

Hermione woke in the dark room sometime later. The cum drying between their thighs made her stick to him, her arse pressed against his manhood. He stirred and so did that giant appendage between his legs. She moaned at the thought of him taking her again. Hermione winced as she got up.

She was sore, but in a delicious fucked-four-ways-to-Sunday way. And it was only Saturday now!

After wiping herself down in her ensuite and using the toilet, Hermione returned to find Draco still dozing peacefully, now on his back. His muscled arms were folded behind his head as if he were sunbathing, his pectorals and abs stretched out in a languid pose. Of course, his awakened erection was at a proud half-mast, red against his pale skin. She saw the scars Harry had given him in sixth year that he’d nearly died from. Draco Malfoy had nearly died as many times as Harry. 

Hermione admired the man he’d become. She was excited to start this next chapter of her life with him. 

*******

**13 August, 2021**   
**Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire**

“Father, what time is your guest coming?” Scorpius asked, hopping foot to foot in front of the Floo near the foyer. 

“One minute, Scorp.” Draco was apprehensive as well.

“Rose will be here soon too. What if your girlfriend blocks the Floo access for mine?” 

It took everything for Draco not to laugh. “It’ll be fine, Scorp. Trust me.”

The Malfoys heard Rose before they saw her. “Mum! I said you don’t have to supervise me anymore, I know you hate--”

Hermione Granger and her daughter came through the Floo, brushing themselves off. Rose bounded over to Scorpius and kissed his cheek and the Malfoy boy blushed. 

“Hi Mr. Malfoy. Sorry, Scorp, I told my mum she didn’t need to come through with me. I’ve been Flooing since I was five,” Rose complained.

Draco smiled at Hermione and she gave him a brief nod. “Scorp, I’d like to introduce you to my girlfriend, Hermione Granger.”

Both children looked at them in sheer astonishment. Rose was the first to respond with a hearty laugh. Scorpius looked like he could either laugh or cry.

“You’re joking! Very funny, Mr. Malfoy.”

Draco took Hermione’s hand, dragging her a little closer. “Father, you can stop with the ruse now,” Scorpius drawled.

“It’s not a joke,” Hermione clarified. “I know it’s a shock to both of you and we’ve been waiting to tell you so as not to make a big deal out of nothing, but….”

She looked up at him and he smiled. “We’ve been seeing each other and we’d been interested before you two started dating,” Draco explained. “I know this is unorthodox, but it’s real.”

“So does that make us step-siblings?” Rose cried in disgust. She didn’t let Scorpius’ hand go, though.

Scorpius made a face too. “They’re not married, Rosie… Right?” 

Draco and Hermione shook their heads. “No, not at all. You still wouldn’t be related even so,” Hermione said. “We don’t want our relationship to affect yours, but you’re young, darlings.”

“So that makes your relationship more legitimate? That’s ageism, Mum!” Rose complained, sounding exactly like her mother.

Hermione gave him an exasperated look. “That’s not what I meant. I just meant that at your age, relationships are much less permanent. There’s less attachment…. Draco and I are both consenting adults who have been in relationships---”

“What I think she means,” Draco interrupted her rambling and made sure she didn’t bite back at him. “Is that we can coexist, okay? But we wanted to be honest with you both.”  
Rose looked petulant. “Mother, a word?” The witches went into the parlor, leaving the Malfoy men awkwardly standing there.

Scorpius’ eyes were huge as he stared at Draco. “Oh my god. You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”

Draco gaped. “I-I don’t… I suppose… I dunno, Scorp.” 

The wizards glanced back up as the witches came back into the room.

The teens were silent for a moment. “We’re going to go… process this in the gardens,” Scorpius announced. “Come on, Rosie.”

Hermione sighed loudly after they left. “That went as badly as I thought it would.”

Draco wrapped his arms around her and she leaned back into his chest. “It’ll be fine. We’ll work it out. After all, we overcame our history, right?” 

“Right, Draco,” she agreed and kissed him soundly.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentine's Day! Thanks so much for reading! I'd really appreciate some critical reviews or comments if you're willing to give them.


End file.
